


The times Sam gave Dean a heart attack growing up

by 8BeautifulChaosGirl8



Series: Little Sister Sam AU [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Always Female Sam, Baby Sam, Big Brother Dean, Brat Sam, Eating Disorders, Gen, Little Dean, Little Sisters, Little sister Sam, Parent-Child Relationship, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Protective Dean Winchester, Sam-Centric, Swearing, Teen Dean, Teen Pregnancy, Teen Sam Winchester, Teenage Drama, Weechesters, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester, mentions of anorexia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2018-08-28 08:52:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8439262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8BeautifulChaosGirl8/pseuds/8BeautifulChaosGirl8
Summary: Raising a sister isn't easy, especially when you're only 4 years older than her. Poor Dean must have had a few panic moments through the years. This is an entirely random assortment of them.





	1. Chapter 1

It was hot and the AC wasn’t working. Therefore everyone in the mini mart was grumpy. The kids were grumpy and pestering their parents which made them really grumpy. The old ladies next to the kids wished those parents would control their kids better and this made them grumpy. The cashiers had been putting up with this all day and had to keep fielding complaints from customers even though there was nothing they could do about it which made them the grumpiest out of every one. Except maybe for little Sam. Sam who had, at only three, decided she had the worst brother and father. Why? A few reasons. They weren’t willing to carry her even when she insisted she was really tired and her feet hurt. Her brother wouldn’t hold her hand because it was too sweaty. Her father wouldn’t buy her a popsicle even when she said please and what was the use of a magic word if it couldn’t be relied on to work? This is perhaps what motivated her to do what she did next.

 

Dean, growing impatient at waiting in line, pulled at his collar. He whispered to himself “Son of a _bitch_ , its hot in here”.

Dean loved using “grown up words” and had gotten astute at hiding them from his father who wasn’t so good at hiding them from him. This time however, Sam overheard. And she was not so subtle. She turned to John and loudly proclaimed for all to hear “Daddy, Dean said bitch!”

 

A collective gasp. Every eye in the place turned to the Winchester family. It was like there no air in the whole building. Dean looked up to find his father, red faced and glaring down at them both. He flushed right up to the roots of his hair. He looked down at Sam who looked up at him, cool as a cucumber.

To this day Dean cannot remember how they got out of the store in one piece what with all those indignant grandmothers and tutting soccer moms. He does remember this as the very first time his little sister gave him a heart attack. It definitely wasn’t the last.

 

==

 

“Dean? Where do babies come from?”

Dean choked, spraying grape soda out of his mouth. He coughed and wheezed, grape bubbles burning in his nose. When he got his breath back he looked up to find Sam holding out a glass of water.

He drinks it slowly, hoping to quell the burning in his sinuses. Sam thankfully waits until he’s finished drinking to repeat the question. He looks at his little sister, hair all curly from the shower, eyes shining up at him, honest innocent little face, all clad in her footie pajamas. And he can’t do it. No way he can tell Sam the story he heard when he first found out, from Neil next door, the sketchiest nine year old he’d ever met. He hadn’t been able to look Neil’s mother in the eye when she walked him out. Sam couldn’t know that story. So he swallowed his embarrassment and lied.

“The stork brings ‘em Sammy”

She just looked more confused. “What’s a stork?”

“Big bird. It flies up to heaven and brings the babies down to earth, wrapped in a blanket and drops them off at the hospital”

“Then how come Andrew’s mommy said her baby was in her tummy. Did she eat hers?” Sam’s eyes grew wide, fear building in that ever trusting gaze.

 

 _Shit_ “Uh... she probably meant gummy babies Sammy. She ate lots of candy and got fat. That's what she meant”

“Oh. Okay”

Sam smiled, evidently satisfied with this explanation, and went back to playing with the scraps of lego Dad got at some garage sale.

 

Dean breathed a sigh of relief. Dodged a real bullet there, It was a good day when you managed to avoid discussing both sex and cannibalism with your five year old sister. If well meaning mothers at her kindergarten didn’t go round being brutally honest to little girls he wouldn’t have to deal with this stuff.

 

===

 

It had taken days for Sam to get the fake blood out of her hair. As if washing out real blood after a werewolf hunt wasn’t bad enough her brother had thought spiking her shampoo with fake blood would be a real riot. Idiot. This would not go unpunished. Sam was 16 and enjoyed very few luxuries in her transitional (and dirt poor) existence and her shampoo was sacrosanct as a result. Dean had gone too far. And he would pay.

 

She waited until Dad and Dean were out, Dad chasing up a lead (he’d be gone all week) and Dean at a date (eew). Getting back to the joke shop she’d seen on the drive in was a bit of inconvenience, especially on foot, but she knew it was all worth it. She made her purchase, trying not to grin evilly at the poor cashier as she did so. The props were in place. Time for the set up.

....

“You alright Sammy? You look a little green”

Sam looked up from pushing her untouched macaroni round her plate. She grimaced slightly, putting a hand to her stomach. “Yeah, I don’t know. I haven’t been feeling well recently.”

She pushed her plate away from her “I don’t think I can manage this tonight”

“You can’t just not eat. Do you want something els...”

 

Sam’s cheeks ballooned and she covered her mouth. She bolted from her seat and to the bathroom. From there it was a simple matter of fake retching, emptying the fake vomit she stashed there earlier into the toilet and hurriedly pitching the can out the open window. Dean, who came rushing in behind her, didn’t see a thing, save his poor sister, leaning over a toilet filled with “puke”

“Geez Sammy!”

Sam spat and breathed heavily, channeling those elementary drama lessons. “Please don’t make me eat the macaroni” she said pitifully, wiping her mouth.

“No, course not. You good to get up?”

 

She nodded, taking his hand and pulling herself up. She leaned on him all the way to the room and fell into bed. Dean went to get her a glass of water. She was feigning sleep when he returned, watching his look of concern through her eyelashes. For a moment she felt bad. Then she remembered his cackle when she screamed in the shower, the way he’d gleefully suggested shaving her head when the “blood” seemed to stain her hair. Her resolve hardened. Besides it would all be over soon. She was going to make him suffer only as long as she did.

 

The next day she put on a show of anxiety, spacing out when Dean tried to talk to her, tapping her feet and biting her bottom lip. She knew Dean was watching her like a hawk. Perfect. That night was phase two. She accidentally on purpose stumbled getting her shoes on, swearing loudly and closing the door none too quietly as she “snuck out”. She knew Dean had watched her all the while. All according to plan. She went to CVS, shoplifting one final prop. She only needed the box really.

 

The next day Dean woke to find the carefully placed empty box in the waste paper bin, half hidden under screwed paper. An empty box that read _Clear Blue pregnancy test, guaranteed accurate response every time._ Sam suppressed a snigger, watching through a gap in the door as his eyes bulged almost out of his head. She had to physically cover her mouth watching him tear into the bathroom where he emptied that waste paper bin, dumping out q tips, toothpaste boxes and empty tubes, a broken toothbrush and a CVS receipt to find the gag pregnancy test she’d planted.

“Sam!” he yelled.

“What?” she called back casually, trying not to giggle.

“Get in here!”

 

She came swanning in. “What?” she repeated.

“What the hell is this?”

 

She made herself stop short, putting on a shocked look. She started and stuttered, watching the blood rise in Dean’s face. “Ummm...”

 

Then all of sudden she can’t do it anymore. It’s too funny. She doubles over and every laugh she was holding back tumbles out. Damn it feels good. Dean still standing there, that stupid look of confusion on his face.

 

“What a second? Is this a joke?”

 

Sam can’t speak she’s so out of breath so she just nods. “Your face!” she squeaks, gasping for air.

 

“You little...” he advances on her, clenching his fist so hard he snaps the cheap plastic of the fake test.

 

“Careful Dean” she grins, backing away “stress is bad for the baby”

 

When he goes to chases her she springs away, whooping and laughing as she legs it out the door.


	2. The infamous "jumping off the shed" story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story behind the incident mentioned in 9.15 thinman. Sam is a girl in this story so it's obvs not canon compliant but I reckon it fits pretty well otherwise.

It was days after Halloween and neither Sam nor Dean wanted to give up their costumes, much to John’s dismay. He was not skilled in the art of negotiating with children. He hadn’t even been able to convince Sam to wear a girls costume at all. Once Dean had asked to be superman she’d insisted on being batman, paying no mind to the fact that everyone they went trick or treating to thought she was a boy.

 

So he’d left them with Bobby and Bobby had made a deal. They could play the whole day in their costumes, uninterrupted, but after that they had to give them up until next year. They’d agreed and run of joyously into the yard.

 

It was later in the day, almost dinner time and Dean knew they were going to be called in soon. He was looking to something epic, something worthy of the last time he got to be Superman. Inspired he clambered up the side of the shed, climbing until he managed to get himself up on the roof. He wobbled, suddenly a little unsure. It seemed a lot higher up here than it had on the ground. But he wasn’t scared. He was Superman and Superman wasn’t scared of anything. He fluttered his cape, snapping it behind him. He took a run up and leaped, bicycling his legs in the air before hitting the ground. He tumbled into a roll and landed in a heap.

 

“Wow” Dean grinned, quickly dusting himself off. That was really cool. He stood, reveling in his feeling of euphoria when it sharply turned into terror. When Sam soared overhead, black cape blocking out the sun and thudded down next to him. With a scream and a moan she rolled over, cradling her arm.

 

“Sammy!?” All the curse words Dean knew were banging about in his head as he rushed over. Dammit, why did she have to copy him all the time? How could he have not known she was behind him? Dean looked her over. Her arm was bent at an odd angle and she was screaming in pain.

 

“Hang on Sammy, everything's going to be fine” He hauls his bike out of the very shed he’d jumped off, flips the stand down and lifts his baby sister onto the handle bars. “Hold on best you can Sammy I’m gonna go fast”

 

Channeling Superman, he kicks the stand out and takes off, pedaling with all his might. He followed the route his father had made him memorize, just in case of an emergency like this. His legs were shaking with the effort when he finally arrived but he still managed to park the bike, kick the stand down again and gently lift his sister into his arms. She was still crying, little chest heaving with each breath. He tried not to jostle her too much, hurrying into the ER entrance.

 

“Please someone help! My sister is hurt!”

 

Nurses come running and everything blurred from there. Sam is taken from him and he quickly attempted to follow. But in the rush of people he loses her. His heart feels like its seizing in his chest, for the second time that day. If only he was bigger, he could make these people take him to his little sister. But instead he is taken to a playroom that smells of bleach and play-dough, left with strangers to play with baby toys. After what felt like hours Bobby appeared at the door.

 

“Dean? You in here?”

 

“Uncle Bobby!?” Dean rushes out of the corner he’d been trying not to have a panic attack in. He stops short of hugging him but is grateful for the pat on the back and smile Bobby gives him.

"What happened boy? One moment I hear this awful scream the next I see your bike disappearing down the drive"

Dean tries valiantly not to snivel "We was jumping off your shed and Sam got hurt. I think she landed on her arm..." 

“Excuse me, are you these children’s legal guardian?” A doctor, wearing the stereotypical white coat and an annoyed expression tapped Bobby on the shoulder, interrupting  
  
“Their father left them in my care, yes” Bobby replied, nonplussed by his sudden appearance. 

“Then can you explain to me why you allowed this minor to escort a small child to the hospital unattended?”

Dean clenched his hands together, watching Bobby with big wide eyes. The gruff old man didn’t miss a beat.

“My truck is old and not the most reliable. Unfortunately it picked tonight to die on me. So I sent Dean on ahead while I pulled out one of my other cars”

“Why did you not simply call an ambulance?”  
“I realize now it seems a stupid move but it was an emergency and I simply reacted. The only thing on my mind was getting Samantha to the hospital.”

The doctor frowned but gave a curt nod, simply replying “follow me. Samantha’s just down this hall”

 

Dean let out a relieved breath and released his reddened hands. Bobby hung slightly back and took his hand. Dean looked up in confusion but the expression on Bobby’s face forbade him from commenting.

 

“Why didn’t you come and get me?” The whisper was low and gentle but Dean still felt as if he was being told off.

 

“I don’t know. I’m sorry”

 

Bobby shook his head and squeezed Dean’s hand. He knew exactly why the boy hadn’t come to him. John had instilled in him the belief that he and he alone was responsible for his little sister. Dean took that completely seriously. He probably blamed himself for this whole thing even though it was nothing more than a horrible accident. If anything Bobby himself should have been watching them better.

 

“Is Sammy going to be okay?”

 

Bobby looked down and in that moment saw past the tough exterior, beyond the superman bravado, to the little boy in the costume. He knelt down in front of him. “Yes Dean. Your sister is going to be just fine. You did the right thing. You maybe should’ve gone about a little different but you did good. You got your sister the help she needed. You’re a real hero, my boy”

 

Dean managed a small smile and this emboldened him enough to rush past the doctor opening the door and into Sammy’s room. Bobby smiled to hear Sam’s happy squeal and Dean’s chatter.

He stepped in, finding Sam sitting up in bed, beloved Batman costume cut at the sleeve to reveal livid bruising and swelling. Her arm was in a splint and resting on a shelf attached to the bed. It looked terrible. But Sam was paying it no mind. Because Dean was in the room and she had eyes only for him.

 

They stayed in overnight (Bobby thought the suspicious doctor may have been part of that decision) and had vending machine crackers and hospital fruit in jello for dinner. The next day Sam was skipping out in hospital issue pajamas and a lovely blue (Dean’s favorite color) cast blank save one name (Dean’s) signed on the back of the hand, a big bold smiley face right underneath.

  
And yes it was a bitch to shower with, yes it itched like crazy and yes it was uncomfortable to sleep with but Sammy was okay. So Dean was happy. So of course Sam was happy. Plus Dean thought her cast was super cool.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nerve wracking and sad beginning, balanced out with a little lighthearted slapstick ending. 
> 
> This fic is just a random collection of moments and in no chronological order.

John scrubbed his eyes, trying to clear his vision. His whole body was heavy with exhaustion. He’d thought having two children was exhausting. Having two children going through trauma as a newly single parent was almost life draining. Sam kept him up all night, refusing to take her bottle. She wanted her mother. John couldn’t blame her. He wanted Mary too. They all did. The children slept only in fits, Sam only when John held her and Dean just seemed to fall into sleep, awake one moment, crumpled in the corner dead to the world the next. He was always hovering over Sam, watching her, watching John as if ready to catch him in a mistake. Maybe John’s guilt was making him see things but he thought Dean was waiting for him to fail. His vivacious little boy had become a silent drifting thing, with cold fingers always bunched in the hem of John’s coat.

 

John wanted to be home, in front of the TV, holding his kids. Instead he was in a near empty clearance shack. He wanted to be able to afford candy, make his kids happy. Instead he had to pull Dean away from the shelf, pretend he didn’t see those big sad eyes. He wanted to get through the shopping trip without sending his anxiety and feelings of ineptitude through the roof. Unfortunately Murphy's law dictated Sam should start wailing fit to burst, screwing up her face and sounding like someone was torturing her. John bounced her, shushed her, distracted her. Nothing. A brief check revealed why. She was soaked through. _Good going John_.

 

He rushed through the last of his purchases, almost running from the check out and to the store’s bathrooms. Miracle of miracles there was a “family room” with a change table. Sam wouldn’t have to be changed on the floor of a disabled stall in the men’s room. He dumped the bags on the floor, holding Sam with one arm and grabbing her diaper bag off his shoulder with his free hand. He hurried to the table, laying Sam, still writhing and crying, down on it. He yanked her little shoes off and then her pants, handing them to Dean. He took them, placing the socks inside the shoes, folding up the pants and putting them in the bag. John pulled loose the sticky tabs of Sam’s diaper, grimaced and slid it free.

 

It was just as he stepped away and turned, that it happened. It was only for a second. He was just dumping the old diaper and reaching for a new one. But he’d forgot to put a hand on Sam. Baby Sam, who at six months was perfecting her rolling over.

John started as Dean screamed. He whipped round to see Sam roll right over the edge of the change table and fall... right into her brother’s arms. The brother who had rushed forward, pushing his father out the way and fallen to the ground under the weight of his 18 pound baby sister.

She could have died. A fall from this height onto solid linoleum, she could have cracked her head open. He could have just watched his daughter die. He could have just lost another family member. Cold sweat coated his palms. His heart hammered in his head and chest. Sam was wailing in fright and Dean was rocking back and forth, silent sobs wracking his tiny form. Dean. Dean had just saved his sister’s life. Again. The thought was like cold water to the face. He sank to his knees and pulled Dean into his lap, crying into his precious boy’s hair.

“Well done Dean. You’re a hero. Good boy” John’s voice was like splintered glass. He squeezed his children close and something inside him hardened. Resolve maybe. Sheer stubbornness to survive was probably nearer the mark. It calmed his arresting heart and let him breath.

“It’s okay Dean. We’re going to be okay. We’re okay. Sam’s okay. You did good. We’re all good”

  
John sat there on that toilet floor, clutching his broken little family, repeating this tearful litany until he really believed it.

\---

Dean smirked watching his sister walk beside him. For every day this week walking home she’d had her nose stuck in some book. The Hobbit one day, Anne Frank’s diary the next. She was going through books voraciously. He’d had to pull her back onto the path, steer her away from trees and lampposts and stop her wandering out on the road numerous times. She was just completely in another world, the nerdiest eleven year old he’d ever seen. And as much as he loved her, he was a big brother. There was gotta be a way to work this to his advantage.

 

It was at dinner that night, when Sam sat at the table with a piece of spaghetti hanging out of her mouth the whole meal, just staring at the pages that Dean came up with an idea. He got up from the table and cleared up. Sam sat at the table still, not even noticing her brother had left. He washed the dishes and put them back in the cupboards, clattering the dishes and splashing in the water. Nothing. He grins. He dries his hands, chucks the towel on the bench in the way he knows she hates. Nothing. He leaves, going to his room and opening and closing the door. He stands just out of sight and puts his idea into action.

 

“Sammy? Sammy!”

 

“What?”

 

“Can you come in here I need your help with something”

 

She huffed, and he heard her footsteps getting closer. He peeked round the corner, amused to see Sam’s nose was _still_ in her book. Must of been one gripper of a story. He waited, waited and then jumped out, yelling. The scream of fright he expected. The slap to the face not so much. The blinding pain between his legs and buckling of his knees even less. Sam had shrieked and reflexively lashed out, catching him in the face with the back of her hand and his family jewels with her heel. Dean dropped, cupping himself and gasping for breath.

  
“Dean, what the hell did you do that for?” She actually had the nerve to sound irritated at him. She wasn’t the one who’d had a precious organ violently slammed back into her abdomen. He moaned, low and pained, crumpling to the floor. Sam tutted, picking her book up from where she’d dropped it, stepping over her poor brother. She walked into her room, puzzling over the weirdness of older brothers.


	4. Before the world was scary...

Sam sighed, flopping backwards on to the grass. Dad’s talks with strangers were always sooo boring. They’d been at the park for ages, everyone else had gone home and all the playground equipment had long since lost its appeal. Dad got all growly when she asked to leave and Dean wouldn’t play with her since Dad had given him that stupid knife Sam was never allowed to touch. She watched the clouds for a while, wishing she could be up there instead of stuck down here with mean brothers and boring dads. A flit of orange caught her eye. A butterfly. She grinned and sat up. Mrs March had told them all about butterflies in school, how they came from caterpillars. Sam couldn’t imagine that, the black and white pictures in the books didn’t seem real. How could a squirming caterpillar turn into a fragile light little butterfly? Maybe the butterfly would go back to the plant it lived on and there would be other caterpillars there, turning into butterflies. Finally she could see it in real life. Excited, she jumped to her feet and followed, trying desperately not to lose sight of the monarch as it flitted through the air.

 

Dean sighed, shifting to try and get comfortable on the impala’s seats. He understood that Dad had to get all the facts before a case but why did Sam and him have to be there. First he thought Dad was finally going to include him in it but he been sidelined as soon as Dad’s contact Charles showed up. It was always like this. Stay in the car. Practice your weapons techniques. Watch out for Sam. Dean frowned. Come to think of it he hadn’t seen Sam in a while. He scanned the playground, trying to spot her pink jacket and brunette plaits. Nothing. A little panicked now he hurried to the bathrooms. All empty. She wasn’t digging in the dirt, climbing the trees or on the seats with Dad. His heart started racing. Dad was going to kill him. What if someone had taken her? What if that thing Dad was hunting had found them?

“Dad! DAD!”

John jerked towards his son “What is it Dean?”

“Sammy! She’s gone! She’s not here!”

 

Dean had never seen his father scared before, at least... not since he was 4. He threw his eyes over the playground just as Dean had done.  
“Sam! SAM!” John bellows.

Dean does the same, rushing towards the line of trees and the path leading away from the park.

“Sam! Where are you?!”

“Maybe she’s just playing hide and seek?” Charles offered, utterly out of his depth.  
John glared at him while Dean blanched. Had Sam told him she was hiding and he just hadn’t listened? He’d never forgive himself...

“We need to split up and fan out. Charles go back towards town and see if anyone’s seen a little girl in pink wandering around. Dean and I will take the path into that little patch of wooded area over there. If neither of us call each other in ten minutes call the police.”

Charles, glad to be given a directive, nodded and set off. Dean bit his lip and hurried after his father.

 

Sam huffed in disappointment. Following that butterfly had been harder than she thought and she’d lost it. On the upside these trees were kind of cool. She could pretend she was in the jungle or a bear in the forest. She stood up on her tiptoes, growling like those bears she’d seen in a nature documentary once.

 

“Shh!” John puts his hand out on Dean’s chest, stopping him dead. “Do you hear that?”

Dean fell silent, craning his ears to listen. Through the trees, a faint growling. John pulls his gun. “Stay low, stay quiet and stay alert. Got it?”

The terror in his veins is like ice. Dean nods. John parts the branches and jumps out.

 

Sam startles at the sudden shape leaping out of the trees. She screamed and leaped back.

“Sam?”

She peeped out from her hands to find Dean barrelling up to her and her father quickly reholstering a gun. Dean swept her into his arms, squeezing her until she squeaked.

 

“Where the hell did you go Sam?” John said, trying to calm his racing heart.

“I was chasing a butterfly” She said meekly, confused as to why everyone was so mad.

“A butterfly? Sam, how could you be so stupid? You’ve got to stop acting like a five year old!”

Sam’s bottom lip wobbled “But Daddy... I am a five year old”

All of John’s anger evaporated and he slumped forward. “Oh Sammy, I’m sorry. I just got so scared when I couldn’t find you.”

Sam smiled softly, beckoning John forward. He crumpled into the hug, allowing himself to believe everything was fine. In the back of his head he knew he would have to contact Charles, have a talk with his kids, get home and make dinner. But right now, he just let himself hold his children. In this moment, everything was okay.


End file.
